


More than just a Potter

by lumosJ117



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2019-11-25 23:12:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18172706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosJ117/pseuds/lumosJ117
Summary: It's seventh year for James Sirius Potter and his best friend, Emily Wood. They're stars on their Houses' Quidditch teams and working together as Head Girl and Boy. This year is going to be great, and it only gets better when they find out Hogwarts is going to host the Tri-Wizard Tournament, once again. For James, a boy who has only ever wanted to prove he's more than just the eldest son of war hero Harry Potter, the Tournament seems to be the perfect opportunity to prove himself. But maybe, just maybe, it'll be a contest that reveals more than just his character.





	1. Chapter 1

         When James Sirius Potter was sorted into Slytherin, everyone was stunned--except, he wasn't. Coming to Hogwarts was, he knew, the chapter of his life when he could begin proving he was more than just a last name. Growing up the oldest child of Harry bloody Potter meant growing up under public pressures and expectations. James had lost count of all the times he'd been compared to his father or been told, "Oh, James, I'm sure you'll do great things. You're Harry Potter's son, after all."

         What about the other half of his DNA? What about the fact that he was a wizard by his own right? What about the fact that he hung out more with his Uncle George and cousin Freddie, learning more from them and knowing them better than his father? Did those things matter?

         Apparently, they didn't, so he went off to Hogwarts with ambitions to prove himself not as Harry Potter's son but as James Sirius Potter. Getting sorted into Slytherin was exactly what he'd wanted.

         There were some things he hadn't necessarily wanted or known he would want, but they came into his life, anyway. There was the gift of Fred being sorted into Ravenclaw and totally understanding the high standards James placed himself under. There were the connections to other pureblood families through his House and a great Quidditch team to be a chaser on. And there was the unexpected friendship in the form of a Hufflepuff.

         James and Emily Wood had crossed paths during their second year. He'd been sitting out on the lawn working on a Potions assignment when her shadow fell across her parchment. He'd looked up in annoyance, but she just stood there holding onto the strap of her bookbag.

         "Can I help you?" he'd asked.

         Then she'd cracked a smile--something that made his tough exterior melt a little--and said, "During your last game, the one against Ravenclaw, you did this really cool thing with your broom where you were able to spin and duck to avoid another chaser  _and_ a bludger."

         He nodded. "I did."

         "Well, can you teach me?"

         They'd become friends, and James was glad their friendship was one of the unexpected things he discovered he really wanted to keep in his life.

         And now, six years later as he read her letter telling him she'd gotten Head Girl, he held his own Head badge and looked forward to writing her back.

         This final year at Hogwarts would be their best. He was Head Boy--a title his dad never claimed--and partnered with his best friend. By the time graduation rolled around, he'd emerge into the wizarding world with a name of his own, not one borrowed from his father. Especially because this year had even more to offer.

         Setting Emily's letter aside, he picked up the one Headmistress Mcgonagall had sent. He skimmed until he found the sentences he was looking for. It read:  _We are pleased to be hosting the Tri-Wizard Tournament this year. As one of the Heads, you will be expected to help with preparations. More discussion of this will follow upon your return to Hogwarts. Your first and only task right now regarding this is to keep it an absolute secret._

James smiled, visions of him being a Tri-Wizard champion already forming in his mind, and picked up his quill to write Emily back.

 

* * *

 

         "I still can't believe this."

         James smiled at Emily as she, eyes wide in wonder, took in the Heads' quarters. It was the right balance of cozy and fancy, and James knew he'd like spending the year here. "What's so difficult to believe, Em? We've worked our butts off all these years. I saw this coming, for the both of us, from a mile away."

         "It's not just this, though, Jamie." She sank down onto the couches in front of the hearth. "We're  _seventh years_. I still feel like a little firstie."

         Sitting next to her and angling his body so he faced her, he asked, "Since when did you grow all soft and nostalgic on me?"

         She leaned her head back and turned it towards him. "I've always been soft; you just haven't noticed."

         "Please," he scoffed, "you're my best friend, Em. I notice everything about you." For a second, he wondered why her cheeks reddened, but then she stood. "Where you off to now?"

         "Uh, just gonna go see my room and unpack."

         "Good idea. I'll come with."

         "Oh, well--"

         "Come on, I gotta see who gets the better room." James brushed past her to head towards the short hall their rooms were off of. "Let's see, the one I won't be able to open will clearly be yours."

         Emily followed after him. "I never understood why they charmed the dorms like that."

         "What?" James glanced back at her as she reached for the doorknob on the left. "You want me to have free reign to come into your bedroom?"

         He could have sworn her blush deepened when she shook her head. "N-no, I just think it's interesting that they think girls are more likely to be harmless when it comes to...the temptation to fool around."

         A little surprised Emily-- _his_ Emily--was talking about this, he arched his brows. As far as he knew, she'd never even had a boyfriend. Some strange feeling rippled through his heart when he thought about her going out on a date with some boy, nonetheless fooling around with one. But he just asked, "Are you suggesting something about yourself, Em?"

         "Of course not! Merlin's beard, I was just saying I think it's curious." She crossed her arms over her chest and gave him a look. "Can you just get along with this already? I want to unpack my trunk."

         "Okay, okay," he said.

         When the knob wouldn't turn for him, he backed up enough to allow Emily to open the door. It swung open, revealing a four-poster bed like the ones in the regular dorms, a large wardrobe, and a bookcase. A lovely, rustic looking chandelier hung from the high ceiling, and beautiful lace curtains adorned the windows.

         "Aw, this is cute," Emily said. She leaned against the door-frame, peering in with a small smile on her face. Then she turned to look at James. "Well, let's see yours then."

         Again, he raised his eyebrows. "I didn't realize that everything you said sounded so suggestive, Em."

         She lightly punched him on the arm as they went to the door across the way. "Oh, don't be a prat, Jamie."

         As he opened his door, he chuckled and said, "I'm just messin' with you." It only took him a second to look inside his room and decide, "It looks the same as yours."

         "Except," said Emily, standing right beside him, "your curtains are different. A little more manly, I guess."

         "Yeah, lace really isn't my thing."

         Emily shrugged and wandered back over to her room. "Well, it's definitely my thing."

         And it was like her off-hand comment had just struck him with lightning because he immediately wondered what exactly she was implying, whether she meant to or not. And his mind immediately remembered a time from last school year when he'd overheard Enzio Zabini talking in the Quidditch locker room to Scorpius Malfoy about getting a sneak peek of Emily's bra when he accidentally walked in on her changing earlier in the day. He'd said it was lacey. At the time, James hadn't thought anything of it; he'd just shot the seeker a glare to make him shut up.

         But, following her comment, James was struck in a way he'd never been before. He'd never wondered this way about any girl--not even when he was kind of messing around with Shelley Thomas or Amanda Finnegan. Now, though, he watched his best friend close her bedroom door behind her, and he shook his head to make the wondering stop.

 

* * *

 

         Behind her closed door, Emily let out a deep breath. She was home at Hogwarts, and she was happy to be back. And seeing James--her best friend--was wonderful, of course. But she needed to let go of this crush she was harboring. He was never going to notice her like that. The only thing that ever really occupied his mind was this one-sided competition with his dad. He didn't have time for a girl like her because she was a girl who would want commitment. At least, want commitment with him. And the only thing he'd ever really been committed to was his quest to prove himself.

         So, as she unpacked her trunk, hanging sweaters and shirts in her wardrobe, she exhaled, again. This time, when she did, she told herself she'd get over James. He'd still be her best friend, of course, but it was time for her to let go of this crush that wasn't about to develop into anything more.

         She told herself it would be easy, but she wasn't sure she believed it.


	2. Chapter 2

         Emily ate breakfast with her best girlfriend, Alice Longbtoom, and talked Quidditch. As the Hufflepuff team captain, Alice wanted to talk through some of her ideas.

         "What if, a few days a week, we had practices twice a day?" Alice asked.

         "I think that's a terrible idea. You know no one has the time for that."

         "I think we could make time."

         Grabbing a piece of bacon, Emily said, "Trust me when I say bigger things are happening this year, and no one will really want to make time for Quidditch."

         "What?" asked Alice, mischief and excitement glimmering in her eyes. "What do you know?"

         Emily shook her head. "My lips are sealed. Just trust me." But she wanted to tell Alice all about the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She wanted to get her friend's opinion on whether or not to enter. She wanted to talk excitedly about having students from other wizarding schools at Hogwarts. She couldn't, though. The Headmistress had said it was to be kept a secret.

         But at tonight's feast the cat would be let out of the bag. They'd given the Hogwarts students a day to settle in, and the guests would be arriving this evening. Emily couldn't wait.

         As the Heads, she and James would be helping the visiting students to feel welcomed and at home. The two of them were actually meeting Mcgonagall after this meal to make sure everything was finalized for the arrival feast. Again, Emily couldn't wait. 

         Everyone knew the wild, dangerous turn of events that had come about the last time there was a Tournament, but this time was different. There weren't any dark lords or evil cronies out to hurt anyone. It would be a great opportunity to redeem the reputation of the event. Emily would see to it that she did her part well. 

         "Fine," said Alice, "you keep your secrets, Em. But tell me one thing: will whatever happens outshine my Quidditch season?"

         "Sorry to say this, Alice, but you can't bet your galleon that Quidditch will be the last thing on people's minds this year."

         With a grumpy set to her features, Alice grabbed her cup full of pumpkin juice. "Great. The year I get to be captain, too."

         James sauntered over to them then, hands in his pockets and a little grin on his lips. "You ready to go, Em?"

         "Where are you two going?" asked Alice.

         "We," Emily said, "have a meeting with the Headmistress." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Can't have good secrets if you don't sustain them."

         Alice scowled but still looked amused. "Oh, bugger off. I can't take any more of your mystery."

         As they walked away, James asked, "What did you tell Alice?"

         "That Quidditch is probably going to be very under the radar this year." She glanced down and brushed a few toast crumbs from the front of her robes. "Honestly, I'm bummed about it, too."

         "Really? The Tournament is going to be so much more exciting than regular, ole Quidditch."

         Emily shrugged. "Sure, for the people who get picked to be champions."

         "You don't think that might be you?" asked James.

         Another shrug. "I've thought about entering, but I'm not certain about it, yet." She peered up at him. "I'm sure you've already made up your mind."

         With a smirk, he said, "Of course, I have. Do you think I would let this opportunity pass me by?"

         They began climbing a staircase, holding on when it began to move. "What if you don't get picked, though?"

         James's jaw clenched, but he gave her an answer. "I guess, we'll just have to wait and see."

         In some ways, Emily understood her best friend's desire to escape his dad's shadow. She was Oliver Wood's daughter, after all. The same Oliver Wood who quickly became the best Keeper in the League and was still breaking records, though he was, technically, past his prime for the sport. Not to mention, he, too, had set aside his Quidditch career and risked his life to fight in the war. Emily had wrestled with her dad's fame and the expectations that followed but, by the time she was thirteen, had figured out how to let those pressures go. It helped that her dad was her hero, that she was very much a daddy's girl and wanted it no other way. She'd wondered if it had been a challenge for her older brother, Owen, but he, too, seemed to be unbothered by their dad's reputation. Emily wished James could make peace with his situation and circumstances.

         "If I get picked, you'll root for me, right?" James asked as they neared Mcgonagall's office.

         With a mischievous grin, she nudged him and said, "Depends on whether or not some dashing Durmstrang boy is chosen."

         He shoved her back. "Oh, get out of here, Em."

         "I'm just saying," she laughed, "those Durmstrang boys have a reputation for being charming and chivalrous. What if one of them catches my eye?" She cleared her throat and spoke to the gargoyle's doorkeeper. "Giant Squid." Then the door opened, and she stepped in.

 

* * *

 

         These things Emily kept saying were really messing with James's head, and he stepped silently onto the upward bound, spiral staircase. What if a Durmstrang boy  _did_ catch her eye? What if she wanted to start spending more of her time with someone else? What would he do if she wasn't his primary source of support here at Hogwarts, anymore? Honestly, all these thoughts made him feel a little ill.

         Something in his expression must have given him away because Emily asked, "Are you all right, Jamie? You don't look so great all of a sudden."

         "Uh, maybe something from breakfast isn't sitting well with me."

         James was saved from any further questioning, though he could tell from the look in Emily's eyes that she was skeptical, because Mcgonagall was greeting them. "Good morning, Mr. Potter, Miss Wood. Thank you for meeting with me this morning. We still have much to do to make sure everything is perfect for this evening."

         So, he and Emily spent their free period planning and replanning and being given little tasks. By the time they had to go to class, James had a dozen, tiny things to do and check in on before the big feast started. Emily, too, had an equal amount on her plate.

         As they were walking down the hall, Mcgonagall's office behind them, Emily smiled up at him. His heart pounded in his ears but not so loud that he couldn't hear when she said, "Well, Jamie, it seems this is going to be the year of no sleep, if this is anything to base it off of."

         "So, if I find you sprawled out any such place around our common room, I shouldn't worry? It's just you crashing?"

         "Ha, don't even be surprised if I'm so tired I accidentally crawl into your bed instead of mine." She shook her head. "Well, what are we going to first? Down to the dungeons for double Potions? Jamie, are you blushing?"

         He glanced at her and gave her a look, shaking his mind out of the rabbit hole it had gone down upon picturing his best friend resting among his pillows all tangled up in his blankets and sheets. Though he was sure she would be able to see right through him, he just said, "I'm telling you, Em. Something from breakfast must not be agreeing with me."

         "Well, you better get it together," she said, "because you're going to be my Potions partner, and I  _do not_ want to be cleaning your vomit out of my cauldron."

         The rest of the school day passed quickly, Tournament tasks and other, unsettling thoughts on James's mind.  _Pull yourself together, Jamie boy,_ he scolded himself,  _You need to be at your best because you're going to be a champion, and champions need to have their wits about them._

         And there was no doubt that what James wanted most was to compete in the Tournament. He wanted to show that he was just as competent a wizard--if not a wizard of more potential--than his father. He needed to prove that. He should forget about whatever ideas were forming in his head regarding Emily because he couldn't afford to be distracted by them. He needed to focus, be a champion, and win.

         James's favorite cousin came alongside him as he was walking down to Hagrid's hut. "Hullo, Freddie," he said.

         "Hullo, James. You seem preoccupied."

         "Do I?"

         Fred chuckled. "Your purposeful stride was evident from fifty yards off."

         "Well, uh, yes, I suppose. Emily and I were given quite the workload as Heads this year."

         "A workload that involves going down to Hagrid's?"

         James sighed. "You have no idea. And it's only the first day."

         For a few, long seconds, they walked in silence. Then Fred laughed and asked, "Well, are you going to tell me about it?"

         Winking at him, James said, "Wish I could, Freddie, but Mcgonagall's got everything top secret for a few more hours."

         "Okay, what about Em? You said the two of you were given quite the workload. Not to mention, you two are usually attached at the hip."

         "Oh, she's off taking care of some of the other things that were delegated to us." James waved a hand over his shoulder.

         Fred raised his eyebrows. "Quite the top secret production you guys are running."

         "You just wait; you'll be excited about it, too."

         "Just as long as you don't make me do stuff, too. But, hey, I actually wanted to know if you wanted to go flying some time soon. I figured I better snag you before you get locked into those crazy schedules you make for yourself."

         "Crazy? I think you mean--"

         "I said what I meant. You're one of my best mates, James, so I know very well that you're crazy. Are you ever going to ease up a bit?"

         "Ease up? When we're about to experience some exciting, intense things? Fred, you're the crazy one now. Anyway, you let me know when you want to go flying, and I'll be there, too."

         Fred nodded. "Good. Well, I'll let you get on with whatever you're up to. See you later, Jamie boy."

         "See ya, Freddie." James gave a short wave as his cousin ambled off. Then he walked up to Hagrid's door and knocked.

         A little while later, after James had made sure Hagrid had everything he needed to keep and care for the coming horses from Beauxbaton's, he made his way back up to the castle, Fred's words on his mind. Did he need to ease up a bit? But how would easing up make him the winner of the Tournament? Easing up might mean giving up what he'd already worked so hard to establish. It was too late in the game to ease up.

         When the evening feat rolled around, James waited near the back of the Great Hall with Emily, who was practically bouncing in excitement. They were watching their peers file in and sit at their respective House tables, all of them unaware that, in a few minutes, Mcgonagall would be making the big announcement that would alter what everyone thought was going to be just a normal school year, and the other schools would be showing up. Already, some of them were talking to themselves because they were oblivious to the big picture but not to the two, large tables that had been added to the layout of the room.

         Alice, as she walked past the two Heads, had arched an eyebrow at Emily, knowing something was up. All Emily could do was smile, and, James realized, she looked beautiful doing it.

         And then Mcgonagall was clearing her throat and hushing the room. She peered out at all the students and said, "Good evening, everyone. It is with great pleasure and anticipation that I share some very great, big news. As you might have noticed, we have made additional seating available in this Hall, and that is because we are hosting guests this year." A surprised chatter rippled throughout the tables. Mcgonagall raised a hand and it died down. "Students and faculty, we are proud to announce that the Tri-Wizard Tournament has come back to Hogwarts!"

         A mixture of shock and excitement exploded at both the House and faculty tables. Everyone turned to the people nearest them to see reactions and to pass comments. The enthusiasm was palpable. 

         With a wave of her arm, the doors James and Emily were standing near slowly opened. On the other side, having gathered neatly in the corridor, were the boys from Durmstrang.


	3. Chapter 3

         James didn't want to admit he was impressed with the precision the Durmstrang boys moved with. Every step, every acrobatic tumble incorporated into their little entrance show, was perfect. So, really, everyone was impressed; James just tried harder to hide his reaction.

         But then he felt Emily lean closer to him and heard her whisper, "Help me scope out the playing field, Jamie."

         "I will do no such thing," he whispered back, barely containing his sudden annoyance.

         "But who else is gonna be my wingman?"

         "Get Alice to do it."

         "Well, you just wait; here come the girls from Beauxbatons. Maybe one of them will snag your attention, and then you'll need my help to get a date because we both know Freddie won't do anything for ya."

         James just shook his head, certain that if he verbalized his response it would come out sharper than he wanted due to his new irritation. What was so special about the boys from Durmstrang? Why did Emily think she needed to get to know one?

        He was rather occupied with that train of thought so much so that he hardly noticed the Beauxbatons girls twirl in. Merlin's beard, he needed to pull himself together. So, while Mcgonagall was giving some sort of welcome speech, he began scanning the tables of newcomers, trying to figure out who looked like they might be serious competition in the Tournament. It was difficult to judge anything, but he thought he noticed a few students that looked like they were ready to be champions. He hoped they looked at him and thought the same thing.

         "And now a word from our Head Girl and Boy, Miss Wood and Mr. James Potter, on behalf of the student body." Mcgonagall gestured toward the back of the hall where he and Emily stood, and heads swiveled their way.

         Since this was one of the tasks that had been delegated to Emily, James didn't say anything. He knew, at that moment, it was his job to stand at her side and be supportive, make it look like the two-person team they made was presenting a good image of leadership at Hogwarts. He didn't think either of them needed to try very hard at that; they were always stronger, making the other look better, when they were side-by-side.

         Emily cleared her throat and addressed the visitors. "James and I understand what a privilege it is for Hogwarts to be hosting this Tournament, but, above that, we recognize what a privilege it is to share this castle with you all for the duration of this school year. We hope that you'll feel welcomed and at home here. And, though I'm sure things might get heated once the competition really begins because we'll all have our favorite champion," Emily smiled, "it is also our hope that a certain camaraderie will help you feel even more at home. Though James and I are, technically, official student representatives of Hogwarts, the whole student body is here to be a friend, help you navigate the castle, and lend an ear in case anyone wants to grumble about having to do homework when we're all just going to want to focus on the Tournament." A little bit of laughter sparked, and Emily turned her smile towards Mcgonagall. "Sorry, Professor."

         Mcgonagall, James suspected, literally didn't possess the ability to be upset at her favorite student. Her response was a little chuckle and a motherly, good-humored shake of her head.

         So, Emily finished with, "I'm sure you're all hoping I won't babble on for too much longer, so don't worry. My last comment before we feast is that, if we can be of any help to you, James and I are at your disposal."

         Then, because Mcgonagall had given her this privilege just this once for this occasion, Emily gestured with her arms, and the food from the kitchens appeared, in all its abundance, on the tables. Grateful noises rose up as the students began filling their plates.

        Before they walked away to their own tables, Emily squeezed James's hand. "Isn't this exciting, Jamie?"

        The way she smiled up at him, the way her grey eyes met his with utter joy, made James think anything--truly anything--could happen. For a moment, he wondered why he was so focused on becoming a champion. But then she released his hand to go sit with her fellow Hufflepuffs, and he let her go.

 

* * *

 

         "I cannot believe," Alice said, poking Emily in the side when she sat down, "that you bloody hid this Tournament news from me."

         "I  _had_ to. Mcgonagall said so." Hungrily, Emily surveyed the dishes around her, reaching for the plate of roasted vegetables and chicken. "But forget the Tournament--"

         Alice's jaw dropped. "Forget it? You've gone mad, Em."

         "No, no, listen to me. I've made up my mind not to enter. Have you?"

         "I haven't had any time to even really consider whether or not I would," she said, though, when Emily gave her a look, she shrugged. "Okay, I probably won't. I really don't have any interest in getting killed competing for--I don't even know. What's the prize?"

         Emily thought for a second. "Not sure, but I know there's money involved for the winner."

         "How much money we talkin'?"

         "How much money would they have to offer to distract you from carrying on with the Quidditch  season? Well, Quidditch with a slight twist?"

         At the mention of her favorite pastime, Alice perked up. "Quidditch season with a twist? What are you hinting at?"

         "What if we still had games and such but let the students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons try out, too?"

         A wild twinkling lit Alice's eyes. "Hmmm...I like how you think, Miss Wood. Would this actually be a feasible thing, though, or should I stop getting my hopes up right now?"

         Emily thought for a minute and ate a piece of cooked carrot. Then she looked past Alice to the faculty table. "I'll talk to Mcgonagall tomorrow. You know, pitch her something good. I don't see her saying no to the idea. I'm her favorite, after all."

         "Yeah, you and your off-the-chart Transfiguration skills." Alice stabbed a potato. "What's that about, anyway? Can you stop being good at everything?"

         "Would if I could." Emily stuck her tongue out, and Alice just laughed, throwing a vegetable at her.

         That evening, after dinner, Emily and James walked back to their common room together. Her mind was trying to piece together what she would say to Mcgonagall because she really, really wanted this Quidditch idea to pan out. She was so lost in thought that James had to grab her by the arm to pull her in the right direction.

         "Whatcha thinking about, Em?" he asked.

         "I'm hatching a brilliant plan with Alice."

         He arched a brow. "Are you disclosing information?"

         Smiling and shaking her head, she said, "Not yet. But, if things go the way I hope they do, you'll be one of the first to know."

         " _One_ of the first? Why not  _the_ first?"

         "Oh, don't whine to me. You'll only be second behind Alice."

         His brow was still raised as he looked down at her. "But, aside from Alice, there's no one else before me?"

         Stifling a yawn, Emily hooked her arm through her best friend's and, though she knew it wouldn't do good things for her heart, leaned against him as they walked. She relished the proximity. For all her talking and joking about finding some other boy to date or even get to know, she knew it was just that--talk. She wished it wasn't, wished she could get herself to really like another boy, but her heart was bloody stubborn. So, she, with a soft voice, held onto James and said, "No, Jamie, there's only you."


	4. Chapter 4

         "Alice!" Emily burst into greenhouse number one where Alice was helping Professor Longbottom tend to some of his plants. Though classes were out for the day, Alice was never satisfied until she spent the extra time with her father.

         Looking up from what she was doing with anticipation clearly etched into her expression, Alice asked, "What did Mcgonagall say? Do we have ourselves a Quidditch season?"

         "We absolutely do! Tryouts are to be held next week, which is supposed to give the visiting students time to maybe figure out which House they would like to play for."

         Alice squealed and hugged her father, her excitement taking him by surprise. "Dad, are you hearing this? I still get to be captain of a real team!"

         Chuckling, Professor Longbottom said, "Actually, my dear, I think I just lost the hearing in my right ear."

         "Oh, ha ha," said Alice, sticking out her tongue at him. Then she clapped her hands and turned back to Emily, who was smiling and shaking her head. "I  _cannot_ wait to put my team together."

         Alice's energy was infectious, and Emily, who was also already excited, caught even more of the bug. Quidditch was one of the most wonderful things in the world, she thought. Learning how to fly and then play the game were some of her earliest memories with her father, and it's been instrumental in both her friendships with James and Alice. It was a pastime of adrenaline and freedom and the right amount of aggression. Emily was sure with the Tri-Wizard Tournament  _and_ a Quidditch season, this would be the best year Hogwarts had ever seen. 

         As soon as she could slip away from the greenhouse--which took some time because Alice wanted to talk about tryouts in great detail--Emily headed back to the Heads dormitory to drop off her things. She hadn't decided, yet, if she wanted to go flying or just for a little walk down to the lake. Her mind was leaning towards the former, though, because she wanted to make sure she was as ready as she could be for tryouts. There was no way she was going to be outshone by some other student who thought they could be a better Chaser than she.

         She could hear James moving around in his room when she entered. Exciting news fresh on her mind, she called out, "Hullo, Jamie! I can tell you my secret now!"

         A muffled, "Ah, bugger--ah, hullo, Em!" came back to her. That greeting was followed by a crash and some cursing. Naturally, Emily had to go investigate.

         In the time it took her to walk across the common room rug and plant herself in her best friend's doorway, more strange, violent noises and more cursing had occurred. What she found was James trying desperately to capture a loose bludger.

         "Merlin's beard," she said, taking a step back with wide eyes, "what is this about?"

         Lunging after the unpredictable ball, James latched onto it and tackled it to the floor. It tried to squirm away from him, but he held on tightly. "Freddie wanted to go flying, but, when I went to get my broom, I accidentally knocked into my Quidditch set and the bludger popped loose."

         "Wow, you're lucky it didn't break a window or anything."

         "Yeah, well, just my lamp fell victim." With flushed cheeks, he put the bludger back in its case and waved his wand at the broken lamp pieces by his bedside, casting a quick repairing spell. "Anyway, what's this secret information you couldn't share with me last night but you can now?"

         Throwing out her arms in wild expression, she said, "We're still going to have a Quidditch season! But not just any Quidditch season--the students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang are going to be invited to try out for our House teams." James couldn't help but grin at his best friend's enthusiasm. Yet, his face seemed to be caught between joy and consternation. "Jamie, what is it?"

         "What about the Tournament?"

         "Well,  _of course_ , the Tournament is kind of the bigger deal. But, for those of us who aren't putting our names in for consideration to be champions, I figured giving us a season of our favorite sport would be a good thing, too."

         He cocked his head at her. "You're not putting your name in the goblet? Come on, Em, you're one of the best options Hogwarts has."

         She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest. "Do you really think, if we both put our names into the cup, that my name would come out and not yours?  _Everyone_ at this school knows our champion is already unofficially picked."

         Scoffing, he said, "I hardly think that's true."

         "James, you've spent your entire life locked in this imaginary competition--always trying and trying and trying and, as it happens, becoming one of the most talented wizards to ever come through this place. One competition just prepped you for another." Then she turned and crossed the hall to her closed door. Opening it, she threw over her shoulder, "Anyway, I'm going flying now, too. You want to walk down to the pitch together? Or will I be crashing your date with Freddie?"

 

* * *

 

         James would only have fooled himself if he said Emily's words didn't bother him. She'd sounded...resentful--maybe? Was that it? But that didn't sound like Em. And, even if that was what she'd been feeling when she'd spoken to him, why should she be? All James wanted was to prove himself equal--hopefully, better--than his father. He thought she understood that.

         So, why the bitterness? What was it that he didn't understand?

         Flying with Freddie served as a worthy distraction, and his mind was able to focus on the actions and the conversation at hand. It was a liberating thing to soar above the earth and see the horizon stretch for miles and miles all around you. It made James feel like all the world--and more--was at his fingertips. He could go anywhere or be anything. He hated touching down on the grass, again, because, to him, there was less freedom in the grounding.

         As the two cousins walked up from the pitch to the castle, James looked back and watched Emily for a second. Knowing her as well as he did, he knew she'd probably stay out flying for as long as she could. But, as he faced forward, he heard her words in his head again and wondered if he actually knew her as well as he thought.

         Freddie let out a contented sigh and smiled up at the sky. "You know what, Jamie boy?"

         "What?"

         "You should ditch your table of snakes at dinner tonight and come sit with me and my fellow ravens."

         James arched an eyebrow and smirked. "Maybe I will. Dinner's not going to be a quiet event tonight, you know?"

         "Why? Because they're officially putting the Goblet of Fire out?"

         "Exactly," James said, nodding. A beat of silence passed between them before he asked, "Are you putting your name in?" 

         Shrugging, Fred said, "Probably. I don't see why not."

         "You don't sound very excited about the idea."

         "Should I be excited when I don't think I have very good odds of being picked as the champion?"

         "What? Why do you think that?"

         Fred turned to look at James like he was missing something obvious. "Well, you're putting your name in, right?" James nodded once, and Fred said, "Exactly."

         Again, James was troubled. And what really troubled him was that he should have felt pleased to hear that his reputation as a powerful, talented wizard was speaking for itself, that his peers knew he was the best option for the Hogwarts champion. So, why, instead, was it making him feel uncertain? Isolated?

         They walked through the big entrance doors into the castle, and Fred bumped James with his elbow. "I'm gonna head up to Ravenclaw tower, so I'll see you at dinner, yeah?"

         Distracted, James said, "Uh, yeah, I'll see you then."

         And that night at dinner James was proved correct in his hunch that it would not be a quiet meal. He'd sat with the Ravenclaws, sharing a portion of the table with Fred and his other cousin, Rose. Rose, in all her sensibility, said there was no way she'd put her name in the goblet only because she didn't think the Tournament was worth risking her life over when she had all these plans to work her way up in the Ministry of Magic until she was the next Minister. She sounded an awful lot like their Uncle Percy.

         When the goblet was brought out after they had finished the dessert course, James, though, was the first to rise and put his name in, as was expected. He could feel all those hundreds of eyes on him, watching him and knowing he had the stride of a champion. He pushed away any doubts that had risen over the course of the afternoon and lifted his head a little higher. This was the path he had set out on from the very beginning. He would tread carefully, but he would tread confidently. He was James Sirius Potter, for goodness sake, and he would be the champion Hogwarts needed.


	5. Chapter 5

         The next morning the students were pleasantly surprised when it was announced, at breakfast, that the Quidditch season was still going to happen and that, if they were interested in being on a team, they better start preparing for tryouts. Amid discussion of that news, students from all three schools would periodically walk into the Great Hall or stand up from their table to put their names into the Goblet. James watched every single one of them do it, and he tried to assess, again, who he might be going up against.

         Because, at this point, James was telling himself more and more that he was going to be picked. Emily thought so. Fred did, too. And, according to both of them, the whole school was of that same opinion. So, why shouldn't he be, too?

         "You're quiet this morning, James," Alice said.

         He glanced at Emily, who was sitting to his left and looking at him, too, before shrugging and saying, "Just don't have anything I really want to talk about, I guess."

         Emily smiled and shifted her gaze to the Hufflepuff sitting across from them. "That's probably a foreign concept to you, huh, Alice?"

         "There's nothing wrong with making conversation."

         James laughed. "Conversation usually involves two people talking, Longbottom, not one."

         Accusingly, Alice pointed her fork between the two best friends. "I feel attacked."

         "Don't worry," said Emily, "we still love you."

         James was going to make another snarky comment but didn't because Enzio Zabini and Scorpius Malfoy walked over, standing beside Alice. So, instead, he said, "Zabini, Malfoy. Good to see you."

         With a curt yet polite nod, Enzio said, "And you." He turned what James supposed girls thought was a charming smile on the young woman sitting next to him. "Emily, you're looking quite lovely this morning."

         An adorable pink color blossomed on Emily's cheeks and she mumbled, "Thank you, Enzio," while Alice's eyebrows shot up. James's hand clenched around his fork, and he stared, hard, at the fellow Slytherin, who didn't seem to notice.

         It was Alice, with her gift for gab, who broke the suddenly tense silence. "So," she said, "what did you two come over here for?"

         "We just wanted to wish you luck," said Scorpius.

         "Luck?" Alice frowned.

         Enzio nodded. "You badgers have done a good job of holding onto the championship Quidditch trophy, but we have full intentions of winning it from you this year."

         In a manner of friendly competition, Alice smirked and cocked her head. "We'd like to see you try, Zabini."

         "Oh, you will, Longbottom." He smirked back at her. Then he smiled, again, at Emily. "I'll see you around, Wood."

         Probably before they were out of earshot, Alice leaned forward and hissed, "Em, did you become  _friends_ with Enzio and not tell me?"

         "Yeah," James said, unclenching his hand and staring daggers at the backs of the two retreating Slytherins, "I was about to ask you the same thing."

         "Come on." Emily rolled her eyes.

         Alice rapped her fingers on the hardwood tabletop. "Well, if you're not now, I would bet he's got plans to change that."

         And while Emily did her best to steer the conversation in a new direction, James sat there feeling annoyed. Annoyed that Enzio was singling out his best friend, and annoyed that he was annoyed. For goodness sake, she was her own witch; she could have other friends.

         He just didn't think Enzio only wanted to be friends with her. And that annoyed him, too.

 

* * *

 

         Because she thought it was silly to get caught up in wondering what Enzio Zabini might be up to following the brief interaction at breakfast, Emily pushed those thoughts from her head and focused on the day's classes. She had Transfiguration, Charms, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. And, in Charms, she decided she was going to befriend her new seatmate, one of the girls from Beauxbatons.

         "Hullo," she said, hoping she looked enough like someone worth being friends with. It's an interesting thing, she thought, making friends. She hadn't done so in years, it felt like. She and Alice had become close friends first year, and then she and James in second year. Of course, there were the acquaintances and sort-of friends she had around Hogwarts. But she really wanted to be welcoming and a pal to help the new students feel at home.

         Luckily, it seemed that this girl, too, wanted a friend because she smiled invitingly. "Hullo, I'm Celine," she said.

         "Pleasure to meet you. I'm--"

         "The Head Girl, right? I recognize your face from the welcome feast."

         "Yes." Emily felt a wide grin spread across her lips. "I'm Emily. Did you hear the announcement about Quidditch tryouts next week? Do you think you'll try to get on a team?"

         Celine tucked her blonde hair behind her ears and shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. I've actually put my name in the Goblet for the Tournament, and I'm really hoping to be the champion. But who knows, right?"

         "Wow, good for you. My best friend has put his name in, and most everyone here thinks he's going to be Hogwarts' champion."

         "Are you referring to the Head Boy?" asked Celine. "He's a handsome fella."

         Emily pushed down the sudden spark of jealousy that rose up at Celine's comment, reminder herself she needed to let go of that crush. So, she just nodded. "The one and only."

         "Hm, to be Harry Potter's son and a Triwizard Champion?" Celine shook her head in a teasing manner. "What a life."

         Chuckling, Emily said, "You have no idea." The girls shared a smile, and an idea popped into her head. "If you don't already have plans to sit with someone at dinner tonight, you're more than welcome to join me, James, and our friend Alice at the Hufflepuff table. That is, if you want."

         Celine didn't even have to think about it for a second. Nodding quite eagerly, she said, "Thank you, I would like that very much."

         So, with a new friendship forming and, after classes let out, an afternoon of flying with Alice, Emily was feeling great by the time dinner rolled around. She wasn't thinking about her annoying crush on James or the mysterious Enzio Zabini--though he did wink at her when they made eye contact in the Great Hall. There was a plate of warm, delicious food in front of her, and Alice was telling Celine a story of the one time Professor Longbottom almost got his fingers bit off by a rather violent plant. As scary as the situation had been, Alice had a knack for making people laugh about it with her.

          James, she noticed, was just as quiet then as he had been at breakfast, so she nudged him with her elbow and softly asked, "What's on your mind, Jamie?"

         "They're getting names from the Goblet tonight, you know."

         "I know." She nodded and gave him a little smile. "And I know who's going to come out for Hogwarts."

         Though a flicker of doubt flashed across his expression, it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. Emily was glad she'd seen it, though. Glad she could be reminded that James was just as much human as the rest of them.

         "I tell you what," she said, leaning closer to him, "we'll sneak down to the kitchens later to celebrate with some butterbeers. Maybe even take them up to the Astronomy Tower for a real thrill."

         James laughed at her and said, "All right, if my name comes out, I'll hold you to those celebration plans."

         At that moment, Mcgonagall rose from her seat at the staff table, quieting the room. Her voice, though she did not shout, carried throughout the room. "Good evening, students. As I'm sure you're aware, we are drawing names from the Goblet of Fire tonight and discovering who will represent each school as a champion."

         A hum of anticipation made the room buzz. Emily couldn't be sure if it was something James did on purpose or not, but his hand, as it rested on the bench they shared, brushed against hers, pinky pressed against pinky with no intentions of moving.

         She caught Celine's eye across the table and remembered their conversation from Charms. So, she winked at her new friend, hoping Celine knew Emily wanted her to be Beauxbatons' champion, too.

         And then, with a bright burst, the Goblet spit out its first name. Mcgonagall snatched the scrap of paper out of the air, unfolded it, read, and said, "For Durmstrang, Sebastian Vane!"

         Whoops and shouts went up near the front of the hall, and Emily craned her neck to see a light-haired boy blushed and receiving exuberant thumps on the back from his tablemates. Then the next name was being released, so she watched the Headmistress, again.

         This time, Mcgonagall said, "For Beauxbatons, Celine Warbeck!" and Emily turned an open-mouthed, excited expression to the other side of the table. Alice was already clapping for their friend, who was looking pleased and incredibly relieved.

         Then that rush of energy died down as everyone waited for the last champion to be revealed. Emily didn't stop herself from actually grasping onto James's hand, and, if anything, he spared her a grateful glance. He was so intent as he watched Mcgonagall clear her throat and consider the paper in her hands. Then she smiled and said, "For Hogwarts, James Potter!"


	6. Chapter 6

         James took a big swig from the bottle Emily handed to him and quickly choked on the contents. Coughing but also laughing, he said, "Bloody hell, Em, this isn't  _butterbeer_!"

         She laughed, too, and sniffed the opening of her drink. "I guess, we've found a disguised stash of firewhiskey. But don't tell me, Jamie, that you don't secretly have a taste for this stuff."

         "What?" He scoffed, but she could see the mischievous truth in his eyes. Then he shrugged. "So, Freddie and I happen to have some every now and then with Uncle George. What of it? I'm sure you've had some before. Probably with Alice."

         She shook her head. "This is my first time. And I wouldn't even think about drinking this now if we weren't celebrating."

         It was just past eleven, and they were up at the top of the Astronomy Tower after having gone down to the kitchens to secure some celebratory beverages, as they'd tentatively planned on during dinner. Emily felt a little rebellious and a tad bit nervous considering they were both Heads and couldn't afford to be caught. But they had the Cloak of Invisibility James had gotten from his father and the special Marauder's Map, too.

         "We could always go back to your idea of the butterbeers. I'm not sure you're prepared for what firewhiskey can do to you, Em."

         "Merlin's beard, how many do you think I'm going to have, Jamie?"

         "All I know," he said, raising a brow, "is that I have a deep suspicion you're going to be a lightweight."

 

* * *

 

         The way her nose wiggled and her mouth twitched cued James in on the fact that Emily was viewing his comment as a challenge. It made him want to laugh because she looked so adorably funny, plus he knew whatever happened could only end comically.

         So, he wasn't surprised when she, defiantly, said, "I will  _not_ be a lightweight."

         He raised his bottle to salute her. "Here's to you, then, Em."

         "No, no," she swatted at him, "we need to be toasting you, Jamie. You're the Hogwarts champion. Here's to  _you_."

         And they clinked bottles.

         It didn't take them long to realize that James was right--Emily  _was_ a lightweight. Once that was established, it also didn't take long for him to take the rest of her drink away, saying he better finish it. Only after he did that did he realize that maybe he shouldn't have; he was a bit more buzzed than he thought he would be. He and Emily laughed together about it, though, because they were both feeling good.

         They sat, shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the night sky. Though she definitely couldn't, Emily thought she could find every single constellation they had learned about in Astronomy. 

         "That out there," she pointed, vaguely, "that's Orion. Do you see him?"

         James pushed her hand down. " _You_ don't even see him. You've just memorized what's supposed to be in our hemisphere right now."

         "Look at you, top of our class, acknowledging my intelligence."

         "Em, you're one of the smartest witches I know."

         Then it seemed like, to him, out of the blue she asked, "Do you think Enzio thinks that?"

         A bitter sort of anger flared in James's heart, and he frowned at his best friend. "What does that have to do with anything?"

         "I...I guess, I'm just wondering why he wants to give me his attention all of a sudden. You know, he winked at me tonight in the Great Hall. No boy has ever winked at me before."

         James didn't know how to tell her that it wasn't all of a sudden, that it was just more than one occasion; he'd heard her name come off Zabini's lips in the Quidditch locker room more than that one time. But how did he say that to her when he was sure she would be able to pick up on his underlying anger? She'd ask about it, and he wasn't sure how to explain this strange jealousy he wasn't even sure he understood.

         He made a noise of recognition, letting her know he'd heard her. Then he said, "I think everyone here knows you're smart."

         Emily kept staring up at the sky, so James looked, too. But he could tell as soon as her gaze fell on him. "What about Enzio? I don't believe for a minute that you have no comment."

         "We need more firewhiskey, if we're gonna talk about this..." he muttered. First Emily snorted, then she giggled, and, for some reason, found both those things hysterical enough to laugh out loud about. Her amusement caused James to smile at her and stand. "Maybe we should head back to our dormitory. Can you handle that, Miss Lightweight?"

         "I kind of resent you were right about that," she said, accepting the hand he extended to her. Wobbly on her feet, she clutched onto his arm. "Whoa, thank goodness you're here to steady me, Jamie."

         He chuckled. "You wouldn't need me if I hadn't been here in the first place to give us a reason to celebrate. Okay, come on, we need to get under this cloak."

         "Do you think Alice will believe me when I tell her what we've been up to tonight?" The question ended in another giggle.

         "Please, Em, if I wasn't with you now, I'm not sure I'd believe you."

         "I guess, I hardly believe myself, so I can't blame you. I mean, getting winked at by boys and sneaking up to the Astronomy Tower to  _drink_? Doesn't sound like me, at all."

         James had to agree. He had been shocked when they'd found out they'd accidentally brought firewhiskey instead of butterbeers up to the Tower but even more shocked when Emily had gone along with the mistake, hadn't been the basketcase about the liquor he thought she might be. And sitting there with her, letting his tightly-held control slip away with every sip, James had quite forgotten that he was a Potter and now a champion. He just liked that she was a girl and that he could be her boy.

         Except, he wasn't even  _her_ boy. He was just her friend. Would she ever do this kind of thing with Zabini? Would she ever sneak off with him and do things that would make her giggle and be pleasantly surprised at the girl she'd let herself be?

         "What's wrong, Jamie?" she whispered as they started heading back down into the castle; she must have felt him tense.

         "Uh, nothing, Em. Nothing at all."

         They both shut up when they stepped down into a dark corridor, knowing they needed to be silent to give themselves the best chance of getting to their destination without alerting Filch or Mrs. Norris. At one point, they had to wait until they saw the light of his lantern pass at the other end of a hallway, but that was the only thing that slowed their passage.

         It was a little after midnight when they finally walked into their shared common room. Despite the late hour, James didn't want to say goodnight to his best friend. Impulsively, didn't want to go to his room alone. They stood in the hallway near their doors, and James went to remove the cloak from over both of them. Slowly, he pulled it off and balled it up in his arms. Emily shivered and pulled at her cardigan, like she was suddenly cold.

         And James swore what he was going to do was tell her she should drink some water before she went to sleep; however, that's not what he did.

         As Emily took a half step back towards the door leading to her room, James took a full step forward. Her grey eyes, wide and beautiful, stared up at him, and her mouth fell slightly open in surprise. He knew what he wanted--a sudden realization that sunk it--but he paused a moment because he wasn't sure if it was what she wanted, too.

          But when she didn't move or voice a protest to his proximity, he bent his head closer to hers. As tenderly as he knew how, he pressed his lips against hers.


	7. Chapter 7

         James, emboldened by Emily's willing participation, deepened the contact between them, slanting his mouth against hers at a different angle. Still tender but hungry for something more, he let the cloak fall from his grasp so he could reach up and cradle her face with his hands. He relished the softness of her skin under his fingertips, relished the little gasp she made when he touched her neck. It was unclear to him who was the first to encourage the other, but he felt their mouths open wider right before the tip of her tongue met his.

         His heart pounded in his chest as he backed her up against her closed door. Nose brushing against nose, one of her hands clutching onto the waistband of his jeans and the other holding onto a fistful of his t-shirt. She tasted like firewhiskey but also like something citrusy, something light and refreshing.

         He wanted more.

         Except, wanting more and being the Hogwarts champion were not two things whose paths converged. And he wouldn't lie to himself--or to Emily--by saying he wanted this, this distraction, more than he wanted to win.

 

* * *

 

         If someone had told Emily this morning that, within the coming twenty-four hours, not only would she go up to the Astronomy Tower to get buzzed with James but return to their shared dorm and promptly begin snogging, she would have laughed and had their mental well-being examined by Madam Pomfrey.

         Yet, here she was. Still a little buzzed and very much lip-locked with her best friend. And it was far from the worst thing she'd ever experienced. In fact, it felt unmistakably right to be in this embrace.

         She knew James was the person who tried so hard to be so controlled in everything he did, and she could feel that strict tension in the fingers that pressed gently against her neck and in the muscles she could feel through the fabric of his shirt. But, beneath that composure, she could feel him thrumming with wild energy. Something in him was hovering and waiting to be released. An energy that was directed at her.

         Just as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. His hands snapped away from her, and he quickly retrieved the cloak from the floor. Between the both of them, their breathing was heavy, like they had just sprinted through the corridors.

         Tentatively, James said, "Em..." and lifted his gaze to hers.

         The words on her lips fell away when she saw the regret in his eyes; they were smothered beneath the sudden hurt that lashed out from her heart. She figured she shouldn't be this aware so quickly after having downed the amount of alcohol she had, but there she was. Up against her bedroom door. Watching her best friend start to apologize. She, too, knew that was exactly what James was about to do when he opened his mouth, so she shook her head. She hoped he didn't see the pain flash through her eyes like she saw the remorse in his. The last thing she needed was for him to know that these frenzied kisses had meant something to her. Let him chalk this up to hormones provoked by the liquor.

         "Um," she quickly rubbed a hand over her lips, "I, uh, better get to sleep, Jamie." Before he could see the color rising in her cheeks, she ducked her head, turned, and opened her door. She heard him say, "Wait, Em--" but then she said, "Goodnight," and shut him out.

 

* * *

 

         When she woke a few hours later, Emily got dressed and ready only to wait before leaving her room, listening at her do to hear if James was up and moving around in the common room or something. Not hearing anything, she hurried out, not breathing normally until she was in the corridor heading down to the Great Hall.

         She felt cruddy--a bit physically and emotionally, for obvious reasons--but knew she needed to pull herself together. If she let James see that she was bothered, that would lead to awkward conversation. The vivid memory of the regret she saw in his expression lingered right behind her eyelids, and she shook her head to try and force it away. If she and James were to talk about what had happened, it seemed clear what he would say. It seemed clear that he would do his best to let her down gently. Then they'd spend the next weeks or months of the rest of the bloody year tiptoeing around each other. And that was definitely not what Emily wanted. So, she decided, as she walked into the Great Hall, that when she and James interacted, she would behave as usual. He didn't need to suspect that there were any deeper feelings beneath the surface. They could laugh it off as a side-effect of her being a lightweight.

         As she sat down, she started, mentally. But wait-- _he_ had been the one to kiss _her_ , not the other way around. It was true he had been intoxicated, too, but why would he have done that if it was something he regretted?

         "Good morning, Emily," Alice said, sitting down across the table and pouring herself a steaming cup of coffee.

         "'Morning, Alice."

         As she added cream to her cup, Alice glanced up. "Not that I think you look terrible, Em, but it doesn't exactly look like I'm eating breakfast this morning with your best self."

         "Thank you for that observation," said Emily, dryly, picking over a platter of fruit for orange slices.

         "Are you gonna tell me why that is? Also, where is James? This would be so much easier if he were here; he'd make enough sarcastic remarks or something that would help me read between the lines."

         Shrugging, she said, "I don't know. He wasn't up when I left our dorm."

         "And you didn't wait for him?"

         "Contrary to popular belief, we're not attached at the hip."

         Alice paused in cutting up a sausage and stared at Emily. "Okay, really, what's this about? You can't get snappy with me and not tell me what's going on."

         "It's nothing, okay?" Emily rubbed a hand across her brow. "I...just got to sleep a bit too late last night."

         "Well," Alice said, not one ounce convinced, "good thing James just walked in. He'll tell me what's up..." She trailed off and, again, stopped what she was doing so she could stare at something in confusion. This time she was staring at James as he sat at the Slytherin table. "What is that boy doing? It's  _breakfast_. He's supposed to be eating with us. Also, he looks terrible, too."

         "I thought you said I didn't look terrible, Alice."

         "Oh, just eat your toast. You know what I meant." Apparently disgruntled, Alice went back to eating. She quickly chewed and swallowed a little bite of sausage before asking, "Did the two of you get into a fight? Not only would that have probably kept you up later than expected, it would probably also make you lose some sleep."

         Emily wished they had fought instead of kissed. Fighting was territory they knew about, was something they'd had to deal with--albeit, rarely--in the past. They knew how to set things right again and how to move on. With this new situation, she thought she knew how to proceed, but she couldn't be certain.

         Keeping her eyes fixed on her orange slices as she picked them apart, Emily remarked, "I don't think anything could possibly rile James up enough to keep him up at night."

         "What about when there are big exams to study for and stress over? What's he do then?"

         "He goes to bed at a decent hour so he can wake up the next day and study with a fresh mind."

         "That's disgusting. How's he supposed to be a teenager like the rest of us?" Alice shook her head.

         That was it, wasn't it? Emily kept believing that James was just like the rest of them. He looked like a teenager and was the same age as one, but he didn't behave like it. He had his fun, but it was never out of his control and it wasn't immature. They way he processed everyday life and the assignments they received was a level beyond them all. Even his time management seemed too good for a boy his age. And Emily had never thought it was a fault of his, had never thought lesser of him for it or that he was weird. She'd always accepted it for what it was: just part of who he was.

         But teenagers were reckless, and that wasn't James. Teenagers were impulsive and acted without thinking, but that wasn't James. So, why then, if he was so meticulous in his every move, had he kissed her? And what was he thinking about her now when he knew she'd kissed him back?


	8. Chapter 8

         Emily wondered when she and James would wind up talking, but then she walked into Potions and saw he was already at their shared bench. Almost sub-consciously, her steps slowed. Would he say anything now? Did she want him to? Should she be the one to bring it up?

         As she sat down, she slid her bag off her shoulder and offered him a small smile, determined to act normal. "'Morning, Jamie."

         "'Morning, Em." Then his voice dropped lower. "About last night..."

         So, it would happen here and now. Five minutes before class started. Emily was surprisingly glad; they might as well get the inevitable out of the way. "Listen," she jumped in, "the firewhiskey kind of carried us away, didn't it? I mean, how else do you explain our very out-of-character behavior?"

         The relief that set into his shoulders was instant, and he nodded, chuckling a bit. "Yeah, that's the last time I let you persuade me to drink with you, Miss Lightweight."

         "We're not going to let that die?"

         "Never."

         It seemed like that was going to be that, which both of them seemed grateful about. But then Emily thought about breakfast and asked, "Jamie, were you avoiding me this morning? Is that why you didn't sit with me and Alice?"

         James lifted a hand to rub his neck and gave her a sheepish look. "Uh, yeah. I was pretty positive that Alice would pick up on something--"

         "She definitely did."

         "--and I didn't want to have this conversation with her right there."

         "Well, she suspects we've had a fight." Emily began digging through her bag to pull out her textbook.

         James also pulled out his book and flashed her a smile. "Wouldn't be the first time. And now you can tell her we've resolved it."

         Just like that, according to James, they'd moved on.

 

* * *

 

         Not for the first time, James was glad he'd not been sorted into Gryffindor. This time, though, had nothing to do with his father's legacy and everything to do with the fact that lions demand bravery, and he'd just taken the coward's way out. Emily had presented the argument that the firewhiskey had been the reason why they'd kissed, and he'd not hesitated to back it up. But James was sure he would've kissed her, anyway.

         A piece of paper in the shape of a bird fluttered past his head and landed next to Emily's book. It made a cute, little chirp. Though he frowned at it, she smiled, delighted by this bit of magic. Then the bird went slack, and the paper seemed to naturally unfold itself. The handwriting it revealed was a familiar one to James, and he looked over his shoulder to see Enzio watching his seatmate. When Enzio noticed James, he gave him a smug smirk. James turned back, jaw clenched.

         Emily had finished reading the note by then and was folding it up, tucking it away in her bag and stealing a glance back at its sender. The blush that crept onto her cheeks didn't go unnoticed by James.

         Softly, he asked, "What's Zabini got to say?"

         "Oh, um, nothing." In disbelief, James gave her a look. Her blush deepened. "What? It's really nothing."

         She was only saved from more questions by their professor starting the lecture.

         The rest of the week passed with two primary questions alternately passing through James's mind: what would he have to face in the first task of the Tournament and what would he have to threaten Enzio with to get him to stop flirting with his best friend? No matter how many times he told himself to stop thinking about Emily, he couldn't. It was starting to piss him off. And he couldn't very well explain his feelings to her, so he had to fabricate lame excuses for when he accidentally snapped at her or glared too hard at Enzio. He hadn't gotten this far just to be derailed from his plan to become his own legend. He still wanted that glory more than anything, so why was it so hard to shake Emily from his mind? Why was he letting himself get caught up in whatever was building between her and a different boy?

         It was actually Alice who made him face what he'd yet to quietly affirm.

         They were down at the Quidditch pitch Sunday afternoon, sitting on the grass waiting for Emily to finally decide she wanted to be finished flying, too. They knew it might be a while, but the day was beautiful so they didn't mind.

         James was watching the sky when someone clapped a hand against his shoulder, and Enzio walked past them, broom in hand, saying, "Good to see you, Potter, Longbottom." He was up in the air, heading in Emily's direction, before either of them could say anything back.

         "The more you frown like that, the more likely your face is going to get stuck like that," Alice said. He scowled at her, but she just laughed. "Also, if you're not more subtle about your face, Emily will start asking questions, and then you'll have to explain yourself. I'm surprised she hasn't asked you already."

         "Explain myself?"

         Alice rolled her eyes. "Oh, don't pretend to be thick, James. You'd either have to come up with some really good excuse for your behavior or finally tell Emily that you like her."

         Staring up at the sky, again, James said, "Emily and I are just friends."

         "Um,  _yeah_ , because  _you_ won't do anything about your feelings."

         "Alice, I don't like her like that."

         She made a noise of disbelief. "How else do you explain your reaction Enzio's attention towards her? Up until this point, you've been the only boy monopolizing her time, and now you're not okay that that's changing. And it's got more to do with your bloody heart towards her than simply because you don't like Enzio."

         Grumpy because he did understand that Alice was hitting the nail right on the head, whether he liked it or not, James muttered, "I don't dislike Zabini..."

         "But you'd like him a lot better if he wouldn't distract Emily from you."

         "Okay, but I," he said, looking at Alice, again, "cannot afford to be distracted right now. I have to be Hogwart's champion, Longbottom."

         Something about that shocked her enough to momentarily silence her. Then she shook her head and said, "I can't believe you, James. You have always been the boy to chase after what you want. I've always thought you were kind of crazy because everything you did was intense. But now I really know you are full on crazy because there's the girl your heart wants," Alice gestured up at where Emily was now flying with Enzio, "and you're completely avoiding the chase because of the two things you want--winning and Emily--you think winning is the one that's going to matter most. But you're wrong, James. You don't even realize how wrong you are."


	9. Chapter 9

         All Emily wanted to think about--and told herself explicitly she was going to think about--were Quidditch tryouts. Nothing else was going to captivate her attention. Not James and the mood he'd been in since the weekend; not Enzio and his less than subtle flirting; and not even her Transfiguration coursework, though it was her favorite and best subject. No, the only headspace Emily wanted to be in was the one revolving around Quidditch and whether or not she'd make her house team.

         She really wasn't worried about not making the team and not because Alice was the captain. Emily was a phenomenal player, which she could thank her dad for, and knew her many years of experience were only an asset to her skill. That's why, as she walked down to the pitch Wednesday afternoon, she was feeling good. Hopeful. Happy.

         "Emily!"

         Turning when she heard her name, Emily smiled as she spotted Celine coming down the path behind her. "Hullo, Celine. It's good to see you."

        "And you." Celine fell into step with Emily, and they continued on their way. "I've decided I want to come and see what tryouts are all about. I figure, since everyone will be watching the Tournament and me as a champion, I should watch as much Quidditch as I can. Take a little, give a little, yeah?"

         Utterly charmed, Emily's smile grew. "That's very sweet of you, Celine. And how have you been settling in?"

         Aside from sitting next to each other in class, Emily realized it'd been a few days since they'd eaten dinner together, been a few days since she'd really talked with this girl. So, she was curious to hear about things.

         "Oh, you know, getting into the routine of a school year is always kind of an adjustment. But I'm really liking it here, so far. The only trouble is those moving staircases have a way of catching you off-guard at the worst time!"

         They laughed, and Emily was glad it was so easy to catch up with her new friend. Sometimes she forgot what it was really like to talk with people who weren't Alice or James--people who knew her so well already and had most of her nuances memorized. This was refreshing, in its own way.

         Once they reached the pitch, Celine wished her luck and climbed up into the stands to join the other spectators. Emily weaved her way around the crowd of students who were gathered and waiting for things to happen until she found Alice.

         "Hey, Alice."

         "Would you look at all these people, Em? Isn't this exciting?"

         For a second, Emily just let herself scan the people. And that's when she noticed all the houses plus the visiting schools were represented. The realization made her frown. "Um, Alice? Why is everyone here?"

         "McGonagall suggested only one afternoon for tryouts. I'm not sure why, but I'm thinking perhaps for efficiency purposes. But I'm also thinking they might need to occupy the pitch for the rest of the week to set up for the first event this weekend, you know?"

         "Yeah," said Emily, nodding. "That makes sense. It's just...different."

         It also meant Enzio would be there. He'd be scouting the players to pick people for his team. The thought made her nervous for a second. Enzio was going to be there, and she knew he'd be watching out for her, too. She couldn't explain how or why she'd caught his attention, but she had and seemed to be keeping it. Also something she couldn't figure out.

         And she couldn't figure out whether or not she wanted that attention. It was nice, made her feel good, to know that a boy desired her. Desired to flirt with her and be charming to her and maybe ask her to Hogesmeade, if she'd understood that implication when he'd mentioned something about it this past weekend as they'd been flying. Did she want to hold his hand? Did she want to know what it felt like to have his hands other places--on her waist or in her hair or on her neck? Did she want to know what his kisses tasted like? She wasn't sure because every time she asked herself those questions, James popped into her mind. Yet, he had no place in that conversation. It wasn't up to him to decide whether or not she liked some other boy.

         "Um, hello? Em? Where'd you go? I lost you for a minute," Alice said, waving a hand in front of her face.

         "Oh, uh, sorry. I was just thinking about something."

         Cocking a brow, Alice nodded. "Uh huh, okay. Well, we're going to get started, and I was hoping you'd go with the first group of chasers."

         Of course, she would, and she did. She'd do anything, really, to get her mind refocused. It was too prone to wandering. And not just wandering but veering off down little, unhelpful bunny trails.

         But Quidditch was straightforward. Quidditch was demanding of every mental capacity. So, she went up with the first group of chasers, and she was glad to do it. Glad to leave the other thoughts of James and her feelings behind and anchored to the ground.

 

* * *

 

         The results were posted the next afternoon, and, though James was happy his best friend made the Hufflepuff team, he did not suggest any ideas of celebration since the last go of it hadn't exactly gone as anticipated. But he did say something.

         It was just the two of them hanging around their common room after dinner, doing homework. The fire crackled in the hearth, and things felt cozy and right. They sat next to each other on the couch in such ease and comfort that James could almost believe nothing awkward or out-of-character had ever transpired between them. He could almost set aside the feelings that Alice had poked at when she confronted him on Sunday.

         "Hey." He tickled the back of Emily's hand with the feather of his quill, and she smacked his arm. Laughing, he said, "I just wanted to tell you congrats on making the Huffleupuff team. I mean, I'm pretty sure it was a given, but congrats all the same."

         She gave him a lopsided grin. "Thanks, Jamie. Now, I fully expect you'll be at every single one of my matches, and you may even wear my house scarf to show support."

         "Uh, yeah right. You won't ever catch me in anything other than emerald green. It's the best color, you know."

         "Get out of here," she said, giving him a playful shove.

         He shrugged. "I'm just saying."

         "Well, you won't catch  _me_ wearing anything green to any Tournament events."

         "Oh, come on," he whined, "how will people know if you're cheering for me or for Celine? People know you're friends with her. If you don't identify who your champion is, they might assume the worst."

         "Right, like if you don't show up to matches wearing my scarf, people might think you're cheering for those darn snake people instead of us noble badgers."

         James grinned. "Are we at a draw, then? You won't wear green, if I don't wear yellow?"

         She grinned back and arched a brow. "Seems like it." Then she turned back to her parchment to keep writing her Potions essay. "Are you nervous for the first event this weekend?"

         "Nervous?" He scoffed, trying to play it cool, but she gave him a look that said she saw right through him. So, he said, "Only a little because I hate the surprise factor. I want to know now what I'm going up against so I can make sure I'm best prepared."

         "I really don't think you have to worry about that. I have full confidence in you, Jamie. And I'm not the only one. Plus, the Goblet wouldn't have spit your name out if you weren't best suited to be Hogwart's champion."

         That little pep talk had been enough that night for James's concerns to be put to rest. Mostly. He didn't want his doubts to be transparent, and he didn't think they were; however, there was only so much hiding you could do from your best friend.

         But when Saturday morning dawned, he was more nervous than he hoped even Emily might see. He wanted to make his house and school proud. He wanted to show everyone that he was a great wizard. He wanted Emily to smile at him because he'd done even better than she thought he would. He wanted his dad, who was sure to attend this event as a spectator, tell him how he, James Potter, was on equal standing with the great war hero.

         Before he and Emily parted ways--he to go be with the other champions, and she to go sit with the rest of the spectators--she crossed arms over her chest and worried her bottom lip.

         He smiled at her, trying to set her at ease. "You're going to tell me to be safe, aren't you?"

         "Actually," she said, dropping her arms, "I was gonna tell you that you better not die. I would hate to go through the process of finding another best friend." 

         "Well, I'll keep that in mind. I'll see you in a bit, yeah?"

         "Okay." Then she bumped his arm with hers and headed off.

         And as he was led down to a large tent set up just outside the Forbidden Forest, James watched her enter the Quidditch pitch with their peers and teachers. It looked like a large jumbotron was floating in the center of the pitch--ready to televise whatever happened during this first event. That meant cameras would be following his every move. Cameras would be able to pick up and show any nerves or anxiety. He took deep breaths, hoping he looked far more calm than he felt.

         Inside the tent, the other two champios were already there. Celine gave him a tight smile, and he nodded back to her.

         Then a warm hand was on his shoulder, and James spun around only to come face to face with his father.

         Harry dropped his hand, searching James's expression for any giveaways on how he might be feeling. "I know I'm technically not supposed to be here," he said, "but I also wanted to see you before the big task ahead of you. You look well. You look ready."

         At that affirmation of who he was, James lifted his head a little higher. "I think I am ready."

         "Good." Harry nodded. "Well, I just wanted to wish you luck."

         "Thanks, dad."

         Harry nodded, again, and seemed to hesitate. Then the hesitation was gone, and he pulled James into a hug. It was quick and a little awkward, but James was surprised by how grateful he was for it. "All right, good luck, James."

         James didn't realize how much his father's presence would mean to him in a moment like this until it was gone. He kind of hated it because he wanted to be his own man, his own strength and resolution. He went back to his deep breathing. It wouldn't do for him to go out and do whatever had been set up for them with a mind that wasn't calm.

         And that's when Professor Longbottom stepped up to the three champions. He looked both nervous and excited, which wasn't entirely helpful to James. Professor Longbottom cleared his throat and said, "Are you ready, champions?"

         They all nodded.

         "Good because we've got a mess for you to find and fix." Then he nodded his head and walked towards the back of the tent where a flap was being pulled open. Nothing threatening was hiding behind it. Just dense foliage. Just thick woods that was off-limits to every student, if they wanted to avoid serious injuries or death. Just-- "The Forbidden Forest holds many secrets. Ancient secrets. The centaurs, whose magic is so closely tied to these secrets, have a problem, and it's up to you to help them." Professor Longbottom slowly looked at each of them. Then he nodded. "Keep your wits about you, and good luck."

         He stepped out of the way, all three champions felt a nudge from behind, and then they were stumbling out of the tent, the flap closing behind them with finality. This close to the edge of the forest, James could see three separate paths beginning and diverging. Nothing and no one had said they needed to each take a different path, but there was also nothing or no one indicating which path might be the most promising.

         So, James scanned first the faces of his companions. They worse a mixture of worry and eagerness. Good. He wanted worthy competition.

         Next he scanned the ground of each path, even crouching to get a closer look. The Durmstrang boy--Sebastian--moved at his side, and James watched as he took the left-most path. He glanced up at Celine, who, curiously enough, was staring at the trees and not the ground. With a sigh, James stood and stepped onto the middle path. He was pretty near positive there were traces of centaur hooves on this one. He would track them and see where they led him. 


	10. Chapter 10

         Nearly three hours later, James broke through the edge of the Forest, coming out near the champion tent. All three heads of the schools were there to receive him, as well as his father. They all looked surprise by his appearance.

         "James!" Harry exclaimed, bounding towards him. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

         James, panting and a little unsettled from being in the Forest for such a long time, could only nod and say, "I'm fine. I'm fine."

         What was beyond fine, though, was that he'd survived this first task. He turned to stare at the woods behind him, hoping the other two champions would burst out at any moment. The reality of the pending danger hadn't hit him until a vicious Red Cap had thought he was lost and tried to, violently, lead him astray. That episode had been followed by a run in with a pack of Blast-Ended Skrewts and a terrible few minutes where James thought he'd actually gotten himself lost from the path.

         It turned out that there were three centaurs waiting for the champions in the woods who had three separate problems they needed help with. Celine was already there with the centaurs by the time James found them. In order to know which one they were supposed to help, though, they had to solve the centaur's riddle, which was especially tricky. It took so long for them to solve it that Sebastian ended up finding them, too, before they'd settled on an answer. So, the three of them puzzled over the riddle until they cracked it--but even from there they had more tricky business on their hands with the individual problems. 

         Celine and Sebastian were led away to different parts of the Forest, and James had to help a centaur figure out his way through a drawing of the night sky from last week. The constellations, the centaur was sure, were spelling something out. There was a hidden message in the stars. James knew there always were, so he wracked his brain for everything he'd learned in Astronomy. But nothing made sense until he realized the stars were aligning in patterns that resembled runes. James was pretty sure he wasn't telling the centaur anything the creature didn't already know, but he reminded himself that this was all a set up. This was a task that needed to be challenging and done right, so, of course, someone had to have the answers.

         So, James set to work trying to decipher the ancient runes. When he did, he was perturbed because it seemed like the stars were spelling out a message of warning, of looming threat. And that was when a phantom-like centaur appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. It startled both the centaur and James. James's concern grew; if this phantom was taking both of them by surprise, that couldn't be a good thing.

         For an uncomfortable few seconds, silence stretched between them. Then the centaur standing beside James whispered, "Firenze? Is that you?"

         Firenze? James looked between the two creatures, the name of the ghost spoken like that of a dear friend. Then the ghost stepped forward, stared down at the drawing, and lifted his gaze to meet James's eyes. In a low voice, he said, "It will come, and it will take the boy," before he walked off and vanished into the trees.

         Possibly more shaken than he was, the centaur James was supposed to be helping stood completely still and silent with wide eyes watching where the ghost had gone. After a minute, he whirled around to James, laying a heavy hand on his shoulder. "It is time you get out of here. Run. To the north. Just run and keep going. It is time you got out."

         "Okay." James nodded. "North." He looked around. "Which way is that?"

         The centaur set him in the right direction and said, "Now, go! And do not come back to these woods. Even the stars would tell you that."

         James had run. Between the sighting of the phantom centaur and the fear he heard in the voice of the real one, James--though loathe to say it--was a little afraid. If the centaur he was supposed to help hadn't looked so frightened by the ghost, he would have been certain it was all part of the task. But now he couldn't be certain about that. And he couldn't be certain what else might be hiding in these trees. He couldn't even say what that terrible omen and vague prediction meant.

         And when he could see sunlight just up ahead, he felt a vine wrap around his ankle, pulling him down. It wasn't a vine or a root or anything, though. It was invisible and strong, and it wound tightly about his foot. A rush of some strange wind kept him from getting back up. From somewhere deep in the Forest, he heard a shriek. He couldn't tell if it was Celine or something else that sounded eerily like a distressed female. He tried to keep the anxiety from bubbling up and out of his chest, but he didn't know what curse this might be or what spell might counteract it. He felt stuck and crushed and weighed down by--by what, he didn't even know.

         That's when the air felt colder, frostier, than it had a moment ago, and a sharp hiss whistled past his face. He could smell the cold. He could smell fear. Acting on sudden reflex, he summoned his Patronus.

         The wolf that shot out from his wand let out a threatening growl before swirling around him in a prowl. James felt the grip on his ankle recede until it fell away entirely. His wolf let out a long how, and that was enough to get James on his feet and running, again.

         And that's how he came to be the first champion back. He was tired, so he knelt on the ground. More than that, though, he felt emotionally strained. Anxious. Like some sort of terror was surrounding his heart.

         "You've been worrying us for this last little bit here, Jamie," Harry said, crouching down next to him. "The camera we had on you lost track of you some time in the middle of you helping Magorian decipher his drawing. You completely took us by surprise coming out just now because we had no idea where you were at."

         Surprised and unnerved, James frowned at his dad. "So, you don't know what we deciphered? You didn't see the centaur ghost? You didn't hear him? You didn't see just now before I came out how--"

         Harry placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Whoa, slow down there, James." His brow creased as he saw James's increased tension. "What is it? Tell me what we missed."

         Though it made James shudder all over and feel inadequate for being this shaken, he told not only his father but Professor McGonagall and Professor Longbottom what had happened in the Forest. They shared anxious looks, but none of them offered any explanations. James was about to demand some, but then Sebastian came out of the Forest, sprinting like he was being chased by something too terrifying to name. Not five minutes later, Celine burst through.

         Before he went over to talk with them, James grabbed onto his father's arm, wanting to know what was wrong. But Harry just shook his head and said, "Nothing to worry about, Jamie. Let's go celebrate with the other champions."

         James didn't think his dad would lie to him, but something about the tone in Harry Potter's voice wasn't what James would call believable. 


	11. Chapter 11

         "Jamie!" As soon as she had been able to, Emily had run from the bleachers of the pitch down to the champions' tent and practically threw herself at her best friend. He'd caught her, of course, and she hugged him tightly in all her enthusiasm. "Jamie, you were first! You did such a great job!"

         "Well spotted, Em," he joked, but something in his voice made her pull away to really look at him. If she didn't know better, she would say James sounded nervous.

         "What's wrong?" she asked, softly.

         He shook his head. "It's nothing."

         "Hm, okay." Emily wanted to press for information, for the truth, but she didn't want to spoil the mood right then. Part of her wondered if he wasn't telling her what was worrying him because of their kiss. Was he trying to shut her out to create distance between them? Did he think that's what they needed? Sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans, Emily took a step back, meaning to head back to Alice. "Well, I'm sure the press will want to get their hands on you. But I'll see you at the party later, right?"

         "Party?"

         "Oh, come on, Jamie," she smiled, "you didn't really think your fellow snakes wouldn't want this excuse to celebrate?"

         He smiled, too. "What's a good, little badger doing getting invited to a Slytherin revelry?"

         "Perks of knowing the right people. I'll see you later, Jamie." She winked at him before turning and going, hoping she wouldn't have any troubles finding Alice. She was glad she had turned, too, because her cheeks were flushing rather quickly. Merlin's beard, what was she thinking-- _winking_ at him? Sometimes she swore she was as impulsive as a bloody Gryffindor, and that was not something she thought was a good thing.

         As Emily neared the pitch, again, she spotted Alice right away; she was, of all things, talking with Scoripus. Though she was intrigued, she didn't get to hear any of their conversation because Alice, lifting a hand to wave at Emily, tossed him a "See you around" and headed towards her.

         "How's our champion?" Alice asked.

         Emily shrugged. "Fine."

         "What kind of answer is that?"

         Another shrug. "He didn't really have much to say. But..."

         Alice gave her arm a playful shove. "But what?"

         They started towards the castle, following other students. Emily sighed. "But it seemed like there was something wrong. James seemed...off."

         "Em, he just survived the Forbidden Forest. Honestly, those Red Caps he ran into are enough to shake anyone up."

         "But it's  _James_ , Alice. He doesn't get shaken up."

         The two girls shared a look before Alice said, "Maybe something happened at the end there where the cameras cut out and they lost track of him." As Emily nodded, Alice added, "He's your best friend, Em. Don't you think he would tell you if something was actually the matter? He probably just didn't want you to see him as not as big and strong and stoic as he comes across as."

         "That's stupid, though. I  _am_ his best friend; I should be allowed to see him like that."

         "Yeah, but you're also the girl he fancies and--"

         "Excuse me,  _what_?"

         Alice's eyes widened as she registered what she'd let slip out, but she went on with it. "You heard me. You are his best friend  _and_ the girl he fancies, and that's a delicate situation."

         A nervous giggle bubbled up and out of Emily. "You're mad, Alice."

         "Tell me what other explanations you're finding for how he's reacted to Zabini lavishing attention on you."

         Actually that thought  _had_ passed through Emily's mind, but she quickly dismissed it because it would not do for her to dwell on such hope. And she wanted to enjoy being desired by someone. She wanted to see if getting to know Enzio was good, was right. So, she just said, "He could very well just be worried about me. Protective. You know, Enzio has a bit of a reputation."

         Alice shook her head. "Do not try to kid yourself, Em. James likes you and I would wager he's liked you for a while now and is just realizing it and--"

         "Alice, come on, you know that's not true. We're just been friends."

         "Okay, but just because you've been something doesn't mean you can't  _be_ something new."

         Emily sighed, again. "Can we talk about the party the Slytherins will be throwing tonight?"

         The quick subject change didn't seem to sit well with Alice, but she acquiesced, anyway. So, they talked about outfits and whether or not Emily should try to dance with Enzio or if she should hope to sneak off with him at some point. Hours later, by the time Emily was finishing getting ready in her room, she was hoping that, indeed, she and Enzio might get to spend some time one-on-one. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew she wanted something fun, something carefree. Something not weighed down by the concerns that came with kissing James.

         With a final look in her mirror, Emily left her room, colliding with James in the hallway. "Oh, sorry, Jamie," she chuckled. Up close and personal with him, she could smell the freshness of his body wash, and it was a scent that brought comfort and nerves. She  _really_ didn't like that combination.

         James looked her over. "I can only assume you're heading off to the party?"

         "Of course! Aren't you?"

         He gave her a lazy grin, a grin Emily thought was damn sexy. "I'll be getting there eventually."

         "Do you want me to wait for you?"

         "No," he shook his head, "I'll find you later, though, when I get there."

         Smiling, she stepped around him and said, "Sounds good. I'll see you there."

         Though the dungeon common room made a fantastic party space, the Slytherins had opted for the everyone to gather in the Room of Requirement. More accommodating. More spacious. More likely to keep them under the radar of professors and on-duty prefects.

          The noise inside the Room hit Emily like a tangible force, and she felt the bass beating through her like her own heart. Already--and the party had just started--students were massed together dancing and laughing. Many of them were already drinking what looked to be butterbeer. She was sure, though, there must be firewhiskey somewhere around here, and she told herself, no matter what, she would not have any of it.

          "A drink for the lovely lady?" Enzio appeared beside her, extending a bottle of butterbeer.

          She gladly accepted and clinked it against his own. "Thanks, Enzio."

          "You're most welcome. Now, come this way, little badger." Boldly, he threaded his fingers with hers and tugged her further into the room. Small clusters of sofas and chairs were arranged around the perimeter of the dance floor, and Enzio led them to a couch where Scorpius was already sitting.

          Arching a brow at her, Scorpius said, "Hullo, Wood. Fancy seeing you here with my good pal."

          She blushed but held his steady gaze. "Hi, Scorpius. What are you doing just sitting here by yourself?"

          He winked and said, "Waiting for Alice to come and find her friend. Won't be so alone then."

          Two very bold Slytherins then...

          It only took ten minutes for Alice to arrive and find them. Emily's mouth almost fell open when she saw her friend because that blasted firewhiskey she wanted desperately to avoid was there in Alice's hand. A large, unopened bottle. And Alice, judging from the gleam in her eye, came with intentions to share.

          At first, Emily tried to refuse. "No, no, really," she said, "I'm fine with my butterbeer."

          Alice gave her a look. "Because you don't think you can handle this stuff?"

          Indignant, she didn't think before she said, "I can handle it just fine. At least, in small quantities. I'm pretty sure we all figured I'm a lightweight, so I'll confirm  _that_ for you. But I would rather not go through the experience, again."

          Now Alice's jaw was dropping, and the boys smirked. "Are you saying," asked Alice, "that you've actually been drunk before?"

          "Well, I wouldn't say  _drunk_. I was definitely tipsy and buzzed, but--"

          "All right," Alice interrupted, "who were you with?"

          Scorpius scoffed. "Who do you think she was with?"

          At that comment, Enzio, who had his arm around Emily's shoulders, seemed to tense. But Alice just giggled. "Oh, I suppose you're right, Malfoy. Who else could she have been with but James? All right, Em, when was this? When did you and Jamie Boy Wonder drink together?"

          Of course, she didn't want to say. That was a story that might lead to divulging more details than she cared to share.

          Alice poured some of the whiskey into a little cup and handed it to Enzio, who willingly accepted it. Then she passed one to Scorpius. "Come on, Em. Just tell us. And here," she held one out to her, "take this."

          For a second, Emily really thought she wasn't going to take it. But then she met Enzio's stare, and his eyes seemed to be asking her whether or not he was someone she wanted to drink with, too. Mentally scolding herself, she took the cup. "Fine," she said. "It happened the night James found out he was Hogwart's champion."

          Scorpius had been mid-swallow when she'd said that and coughed on his drink. With surprise plainly on her face, Alice patted him on the back but watched her friend. "Emily Wood! That was, like, just the other day! And you didn't tell me!"

         "Right," Emily rolled her eyes, "like you would have believed me anyway if I had told you, 'Guess what, Alice? James and I got buzzed on top the Astronomy tower last night. Aren't I a great Head Girl?'"

         "You even went up to the Astronomy tower?" Alice was absolutely gleeful about this secret sharing. "You're right--I wouldn't have believed you, but this is great!" She lifted her cup in a toast. "Let's drink to that."

         "Drink to what exactly?" Scorpius asked.

         "To doing things a little wild. To things that might be unbelievable."

         The four of them tapped their cups against each others', and Emily hesitantly raised hers to her lips. She stared at the fiery liquid, knowing full well what it might do to her. But she did want to be a little wild. She did want to step outside the normal bounds of who she was as Emily Wood and do something unbelievable.

         So, while Alice set down her cup and said, "All right, Malfoy, come dance with me," Emily took a drink. It burned--how could it not?--but she didn't regret it.

         Enzio shifted closer to her, bending his head to speak right in her ear. In a husky voice, he asked, "Do you want to go dance, too?"

         In the light that seemed to dim as the noise somehow increased, Emily had a difficult time reading the emotion in his eyes. But she saw the heat. She saw the interest. And even though all she'd had was one sip of the liquid fire, she guessed one sip was enough because she murmured, "No," and kissed him.

         He kissed her back, and she leaned into the softness of his lips. Leaned into the knowledge that Enzio knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing it well.

         They only broke apart when loud cheering erupted. Something had to be going on if the students were making more noise than the music. A little dazed by Enzio's kisses, Emily turned towards the entrance of the Room, and her breath caught.

         Because there was James, having just gotten to the party. Having just seen his best friend snogging on a sofa with someone other than him. He was looking at her with conflicted eyes, and she vaguely wondered why.


End file.
